"How do you know I am not the person for whom it is intended?"
"I was told to say this. 'There are whispers in the darkness.' The person who will receive this will know what else to say." It meant nothing to her, but evidently it meant something to this man.
"'But in the light, there is nothing but silence,'" he said softly. "I think that is mine."
"I think it is," she said quietly, handing it over to him. "I have discharged my duty, sir.... and now I will leave."
"Wait!" he said. There was something in the tone of voice. This man was a nobleman, or had been once. He was used to commanding others. "What is your name, that I may know whom to thank for this?"
"I am Lyndisty, of House Marrago," she said simply. She then wiped the blood from her blade and walked away.
"Lyndisty," he said, putting down the brand. "Yes.... I know you now." He looked at the package, and something dark grew within him. "Yes. I know you now."
They were coming. Clark could feel them, like songs just in the next room, whispered conversations, pinpricks of light just off the horizon.
It was coming. Humanity's greatest defeat, and their greatest victory. He would personally see that humanity was saved from Hell. Alas, he doubted he would be able to see her led towards Heaven.
He wondered sometimes, in the dead of night, if there could have been another way, but he always knew there was not. At heart, people were stupid. They were petty, pathetic, venal, selfish and self–absorbed. That was the first true lesson any politician learned. People were stupid.
Oh, when Clark had started out, years ago, he had had all sorts of grand designs, great dreams. He would change the world, make Earth a better place. He would bring his beliefs and his dreams. All he needed was power, one single chance, and then everything would be so much better.
Time and experience had hardened him. People did not want change. They never did. Oh, they said they wanted improvements. Ban this, legalise that, lower this, raise that, change this.... reforms, new legislation....
But what they really wanted was for tomorrow to be just the same as today.
Humanity needed to change. They had made an error in allying themselves with the Shadows. It was not just the work of the leaders, the politicians, the diplomats. No, they had all done it. Everyone out there had accepted this alliance. Their reasons were understandable, really. They didn't know what they were doing. A.... minor slip. These things happened.
But that had been three years ago, and they had made no effort to correct their mistake. Change was necessary, just this once, but did they want to do that? No, of course not.
Force was the only approach any of them understood. The same was true of most races to a certain extent, but none more than humanity.
Ah. Clark smiled. He was coming. Sheridan. He should have done this sooner, but he was a diplomat, and always too cautious. A commendable trait, most of the time. But not now.
Clark tried to calculate how long it would be before the Dark Star fleet arrived. A few hours, perhaps. There was time enough.
"Ambassador Sheridan is here to see you, Mr. President," said his secretary.
"Send him in. Oh, and take an early lunch. Send away all the Security in this area of the building as well."
"Are you sure, sir?"
"Of course I am. There is no danger from Ambassador Sheridan now, is there?" It probably wouldn't have mattered if the security guards had stayed. Most of them were new, brought in from off–world in the aftermath of Welles' arrest. That was something Clark had not been pleased about. Who would have thought he would have acquired enough backbone to do something like that? Clark thought he would have learned after the whole Takashima business.
It was annoying. He wished he could have had Delenn killed long ago. She should have died on Z'ha'dum of course, but this had seemed.... a blessing in disguise. A chance to lure the Alliance here, all in due time of course, and then kill her before Captain Sheridan's eyes. That would give him more than enough cause to hate the Shadows.
But no, she had to go and escape. Oh, well.... things might still work out. She would be unlikely to see past the next day or so. There would be a lot of.... civilian casualties and 'collateral damage' coming soon. Delenn might well die in the process.
After all, the Alliance would be perfectly willing to equate a scorched earth policy with the Shadows, wouldn't they?
Ambassador Sheridan walked into the room. Clark rose to meet him. "Mr. President," he said. "There are some things we should discuss."
"Indeed there are. Tell your.... associates to show themselves."
The space around Sheridan shimmered, and three Shadows came into view. Clark smiled. His eyes began to glow.
"We are two dead men now, my friend," he said, leaning on his desk. "Two dead men, and nothing more."
It was dark. That was fine by Kozorr. He liked the dark, at least he liked it here, in this place.
It was a place of heroes, of great deeds, a place where legends had once walked, where stories had been inspired. He had grown up hearing the tales of Derannimer and Nemain, and all those who had walked the corridors he walked now. He could feel them. Their touch was everywhere, their breath still hanging in the air, their whispers echoing just beyond hearing.
They were all mocking him, deriding him. He did not deserve to be here. He was a traitor, an oath–breaker, and he did not deserve to be here.
But then Marrain and Parlonn had been traitors, and they too had walked these halls. Maybe Parlonn's ghost still did, if he had been denied reincarnation. It had been he and Marrain who had discovered this station after all.
He was not alone. That would be foolish in such a potentially dangerous environment, but he could tell that the other warriors were feeling as he was. The Tak'cha had been filled with excitement at the first step into Anla'Verenn–veni, which they called Ende X'ton. Only a very few had even come aboard, most preferring to stay on their ships and protect their holy place.
And there were only a handful of Minbari here as well. Five in total. He himself, Tirivail, Rastenn and two others, both long–time followers of Sonovar. They were here to complete their mission. Or they would be, if any of them had any clue as to what their mission was.
None of them had been ordered here by Sonovar himself. All their orders had come directly from Forell. Oh, he had to be acting by Sonovar's will of course, he would not dare do otherwise, but still....
"You are to escort our noble and enlightened allies to the place they seek, you are to protect them on the way there and help them safeguard their holy and sacred heritage from any who might seek to harm it. We seek, as always, to help those who help us. Such is the mutual benefit of an alliance."
Fine and noble words, coming from a diplomat, but they said nothing. What were they expected to do? Protect the Tak'cha.... but only protect them on the way here. Kozorr straightened, suddenly realising something. There had been no mention of the return journey. Were they even expected to return at all?
He shook his head, not liking the implications of that train of thought. Either Forell was acting on his own, or Sonovar was sending them here to die.
Or, of course, he was too shaken up by his surroundings.
The Tak'cha should be arriving at their shrine by now. Kozorr had no interest in such a place. He had always been fascinated by another legend here, by another story, and it was for that goal he was aiming. Tirivail and Rastenn had come with him, but as he turned back to speak to them he found they were nowhere in sight.
It was dark here. Too dark.
The Tak'cha had made it very clear they would not tolerate any outsiders present at their sacred shrine. Kozorr was free to follow his dreams, or his nightmares.